


A Story From Another Time

by Interstella



Category: Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss
Genre: Elodin's Story, First Person, Third Person (intro and outro)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:11:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interstella/pseuds/Interstella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kvothe could not be said to be the only one curious as to Elodin's past. But he is the only one to hear it. </p><p>So here it is. Elodin's story. His past, his friendships, his accomplishments and his fall. </p><p>Listen to his story, of how he met and befriended the golden girl, of the wonder of friendship and the disaster of falling. Listen to how his final term at university shaped his sanity, and how he raised himself back to the top.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Story From Another Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. 
> 
> A roleplay on Tumblr by master-namer and clever-lettuce. 
> 
> While we have taken efforts to edit this into a story rather than roleplay, if there are any errors or it doesn't seem to flow right, please let me know.

A Story From Another Time

 

Clouds gathered over the university hanging low and dark. Kvothe gave a nervous look upwards and swallowed. “Shouldn’t we go inside, Master?” He asked his companion, turning to face him. He was sat uncomfortably, holding his knees to his chest as if he was hiding his modesty.

Elodin himself was sitting normally, legs crossed and back straight, his own nudity seemingly forgotten. “Ah, but Kvothe, you haven’t understood the nature of the lesson yet.” He had to raise his voice over a sudden gust of wind. “Besides which, unless you can climb down the sheer face of a building, I’m afraid we’re stuck out here until someone comes to get us. The key is in my trouser pocket.” He flashed Kvothe a grin and then pointed to where his trousers had been sitting. The space was empty and the Re’lar’s eyes widened. 

“You’re kidding me!” He all but roared, anger obvious in his voice. “Of all the crazy, stupid idiotic things-“

“Shall I tell you a story, Kvothe?” Elodin interrupted, his voice and manners unconcerned with his student’s outrage. “How about I tell you my story? You’re always so curious…” Kvothe looked like he wanted to object, but then his curiosity got the better of him and he made himself a little more comfortable, sitting against the chimney of the Archives, ready to listen.

Kvothe was a student, he was Elodin’s Re’lar, Arcanist in training, Kvothe the Bloodless, but above all else, he was Edema Ruh, the keepers of stories. And this story was one he wouldn’t pass up.

Upon seeing his student’s attention, Eldoin began to speak, his voice rising only as loud as it had to to be heard above the impending storm.

“As you know, I was accepted as a student very young. At the tender age of fourteen I was accepted into the university, a member of the Arcane within my first term and I rose swiftly through the ranks. I too was banned from the Archives for a while... But that’s a story for another time. Now is the story of my last term. When I met your friend, the one you call Auri.”

\---- ---- ----

Firstly, it is wise to remember that some names escape even those who remember everything else. When she spoke her given name for the first time, there were so many distractions I scarcely heard the syllables that composed it, and not because she barely whispered over the ruckus of Mews. Even then, her small, knowing smiles were a mystery. In the University, the only thing that spreads quicker than flames in The Fishery are rumours, and those spread about her faster than the other scarce female students combined-  
It was common belief that the girl had come from Atur, or possibly was some noble from Modeg, sent away for her (presumed) shyness. For a while, there was a quiet yet steady stream of whispers that she was actually not entirely human. Those passed the lips of the few who had actually spoken with her, mesmerized by the way her hair slid across her cheeks whenever she inclined her head to listen.

It was said that for her entire first span at the University, she was hidden in one of many alcoves of tomes. If they were all full, she would recline against a shelf in the aisle, much to the chagrin of the scrivs. For days on end, she barricaded herself in those books- books that didn’t even make sense. Never once did a scriv fetch her a book that was actually for a lesson. She read stories. Poems. Books of endless facts. Once, another student who worked in tomes mentioned he caught her reading a book in a dead language, early in the morning.

Sometimes, she walked across the grounds under the stars completely barefoot, not always dressed as she should be, her hair brushing against her shoulders. She wandered where no others could go, since her voice could make any apology sound sincere, even to the Masters. Laughing, she would dance across the ground with mud squishing between her toes and utterly destroying her clothes. It was those nights she spoke more than she should. Those were the nights of telling.

However, since stories are linear, we’ll start when I gave her a name. It was an average day in Mews a few spans into the term. The Masters had grown quite aggravated with the poor girl as she was far too clever for any of the starting classes. Clever- or perhaps asinine. Very early, she made it clear that the only field she cared to study was naming. She had no inclination of becoming an arcanist. She didn’t even seem to care whether or not she was admitted, really. The only thing she ever cared about was the fanatical truth, and outside of that, reality was unimportant. As the only El’the in Naming, it came to me to tell her to essentially bug off. No one wants to become a namer. It’s dangerous. Unsatisfying. A snooze-fest. At least, that’s what the Namers tell people. To anyone who knows a name, or has heard one, that is an absolute load of horse shit.

So here I was- about to lie to her in Mews, when she looked towards me and quietly whispered:

“Elodin, it is very rude to leave me sitting here when time is most precious currency."

We had never met previously. She knew this- knew she had me on the line with this- and she smiled for the the very first time I'd seen, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It was evident that she had been spying on the masters, but when or how it was impossible to tell. Before I could respond, she leaned forward and set her chin into her hand. It wasn’t pretentious, but rather predatory. Her eyes locked onto me without fear, and even though she knew exactly what I had to tell her, she tilted her head in that way you’ve seen and asked delicately, as if it was the most average of conversations:

“Is there anything you need from me?"

Her voice washed over me and lightly hinted that it might just drown me if I wandered too far from the shallows of conversation. She knew I was to lie to her, and she was daring me to do so. 

I found I couldn't. "Well. I'm supposed to tell you that naming is boring. That you'll hate it and there's no point in studying it."

She made no mention that I’d admitted to what I’d come there for. Rather- she stared at the ceiling long and hard her lips slightly parted as if she was just on the brink of forming another word. If I hadn’t said something else, she might have sat like that for hours, trying to puzzle out all the meanings behind the old roof above our heads. My eyes were drawn upward at a loss for anything to say. I knew I had to dissuade her somehow- naming wasn’t for the weak of heart. But I was inside. I was in a tiny, cramped room, a prisoner trapped within a stale air cell.

"Don't you feel trapped, living in a room like this?" It was off the topic of conversation, but it was what I was thinking. The most brutal of honesty. I didn't want to talk to her in Mews. It felt like she belonged somewhere else, somewhere more open and free. "I know there's no moon tonight, but shall we walk? I'll tell you the truth behind the masters, why they say such things about a wondrous subject." Perhaps with that truth would come understanding. Desperately I wanted her to know, to understand, and to be wary.

"Sitting in a cage does not make a dog any more obedient. It just ensures someone will hand him food from time to time."

It was only a second after I’d started talking that she turned back to me, not quickly, but relaxed. She always had the beauty of being fully aware even while completely lost in thought- although it was quite maddening to even attempt to command her full attention. I offered my arm to her to lead her into the grounds. Since the moon was away, the stars were particularly bright this night. So what was a seventeen year old to do but take a beautiful young lady closer to the stars. "Shall we take a walk on top of things?" I asked her eventually, looking up and gesturing with my eyes to the roof. 

At my offering, she laughed, which drew at least one curious onlooker. Her laughter wasn’t in contempt, however. Although she cut herself off, it was clear that she had either no knowledge of, or no respect for, any form of social normality. It was funny to her that I’d come to her with the intention of lying, and then immediately offered her a series of grandiose “truths". Even though it was obvious she didn’t trust me, the hunger for knowledge in her eyes gave away the fact she would agree.

Without even answering, she stood, took my arm, and allowed me to lead her outside. It was awkwardly silent. Only once we were in the doorway did she stop, and whisper:  
“Give me a second."

It wasn’t a request, it was a demand. A demand. To an El’the. Anyone in another field of study might have been a bit angry then, but I found myself waiting, watching her with a growing curiosity. Who was this girl? Were any of the rumours truth? Could it be she really was part fae? The more I got to know her, the more these questions burned in my mind.

She jumped across the edge of the building and the outside world, as if planting one foot before the other would somehow corrupt her. Then, she took of her shoes, clearly intending to carry them the whole way. Satisfied of her freedom, she re-looped her free arm in mine and continued walking.

Immediately, she relaxed. She listened much more earnestly now, although her eyes were trained upon the sky, searching for answers to questions half-formed.

"I've heard there's a courtyard that you can only get to from the roof. Shall we see if we can find it?" I mentioned casually, wondering to what extent her curiosity would lead. 

Only when I mentioned the courtyard did she look at me, her face half-shadowed in blue light and her hair whirling about her face.

“I’ve never been on top of things." She allowed. Whether she meant that simply about the rooftops or doubly about her life I couldn’t say. Her eyes were downcast for a split second, as if she were remembering.

When I mentioned the courtyard though, she looked at me once more, her face a playful sneer.

“It’s not finding if you already know where it is." she countered. “But, I want to see it anyway."

“Well, you see you misunderstood me.” I countered quickly, finding the growing banter amusing. “The courtyard isn’t known, at least not to me. It’s simply rumour, a legend so to speak of the university. What I want to do, is find it.” I turned to look at her and felt a smile growing upon my lips.

Surprised to be corrected so, the girl in took the smallest of breaths, held it, and let it back out as a quiet “Really?". The last part of it rose in the excited pitch of children who aren’t quite sure if an adult is lying or not. At the mention of legends, her eyes twinkled, brighter than all the stars in the sky combined. When she smiled back at me I felt honesty that simply doesn’t exist anymore.

When I began to climb up to the rooftops, my newfound friend hesitated for a brief moment. For a second, my stomach fell as I realized she might have suddenly had a second thought about recklessly running across the rooftops of the University at night, but when I looked down at her, I found that she was studying how I was climbing. Before I could process another thought, she was after me, grabbing at the same tiles I knew would hold, pressing her bare feet against the stone so they wouldn’t slip. Perhaps, if she cared about sympathy or artificing or chemistry, she could have been a brilliant student. The brilliant thing about her was she absolutely didn’t.

Of the speculation regarding this woman, none had been clear just how interesting she could be. Scarcely ten minutes into our association, I found myself entranced by her. Following her example, I let go of her to remove my shoes. The boots were heavy and I didn’t relish the idea of carrying them for the night, so after a quick glance around, I placed them beside a chimney, ready for retrieval later.

“Well then,” I said, turning back to my ‘charge’ and retaking her arm. “Shall we?” And with that, I carefully led the way across the slippery surfaces.

It wasn’t my first time on the roof. Growing up in a small town as I had, children had to make their own fun. As none of the others relished the idea of spending time with the ‘weird’ child, I had a lot of time to myself. Half of which was spent in my father’s library, the rest exploring the top of things.

So while I was cautious, I was not inexperienced in rooftop strolls. In fact, I found them liberating. “I feel much less trapped when I’m on top of things.” I told the girl. “I feel more like I belong, and less like I am forced.” I turned to smile at the small woman. “On the top of things, like edges, it’s a brilliant place to see things, to know things.”

Now, you have to understand that I was young. So very young and so very inexperienced in the matters of life. I had led a sheltered and isolated childhood-having virtually no interactions with my peers until entering the university. Which I did at such a young age that I was instantly disliked by many.

So as it was, it seemed like a brilliant idea to show off. I had a woman on my arm, it was a beautiful, cloudless night and there was the odd magic of new friendship in the air. I paused in my steps and sent my gaze roaming. Slowly letting go of the young woman, I patted her arm to signify that she should stay where she was as I stepped closer to the edge of the building.

When I left her to wait, she sat down easily upon the dark tiles of the rooftop, her legs folded underneath of her, her hands at her sides. The trees above us cast wild shadows around her, running about her skin like dark faeries about their queen. All the while, she never spoke a single word, not even when I told her about the top of things. It seemed she knew, or was taking it in. I’m not sure which.

The angle of the roof was perfect. I was atop Mews, and thus the sloping roof made my demonstration simple. “You want to study naming.” I said, my voice getting slightly louder, remembering the Ruh troupe I’d once seen perform for my father. There was no way I had the skills to replicate theirs, but as young as I was, I thought it worth a try.

“There are a great many things one can do with names.” I closed my eyes, focusing on opening my mind, waking the slumbering section and carefully weaving it into my control. I was still relatively new to this, and it didn’t come easy but I wanted to show off to her.

This was probably the beginning of my downfall.

She listened to my spiel about naming and for a second her eyes glinted with a feeling somewhere in the leagues between betrayal and amusement. (There is such an emotion, it’s cousin to contempt.) Shaking pale strands of moonlight around her face, her eyebrows furrowed in a way that already said “Listen, but…" before her tongue could form the words, she opened her mouth to tell me she didn’t want to hear it.

But I managed to show her before she could dismiss my words as empty.

Upon opening my eyes, I could see. I could really see. Colours, details previously hidden, everything was much sharper yet softer at the same time. The wind blew past and I could feel it, deep in my soul, that it was there for my taking. I saw it. I watched it for a moment before I spoke softly, the ever-changing name falling from my lips before my mind could remember it.

There was a gust, a growing wind that curled around us before moving on. Then it was still for a brief moment but upon it’s return, the wind carried with it several hundred pink petals and let them rain upon us.

I watched with distracted joy as the wind blew around my newfound friend, softly ruffling her hair into an almost halo around her. I was aware of the world dimming and sharpening, of the powers of the wind sifting through my grasp. And then the world was as it always was and the wind was forgotten to me.

I’d never seen someone change so drastically in the blink of an eye before that second. The breath she’d planned on using to confront me turned into the slightest of gasps, and when that faded, it turned into the widest, most awe-struck smile I can remember. As the petals blew about her, her hair whipped around her face, forgotten. At one point it seemed like she was going to stand up, but then couldn’t quite remember where her feet were, and sat back down, cross-legged. Her fingers slowly rose together, extended with the palms up, and her bright eyes watched fascinated as the tiny specks weaved between them.

“There is a great power in naming.” I repeated, “But it’s not what everyone thinks. It isn’t a weapon, it isn’t something to control in its entirety. It’s beautiful. It’s joyful. And it’s not to be misused.” I needed her to understand why the masters limited their students. “You have to be right in the mind. If you’re not…you’ll fracture.”

When the wind was gone, she was completely wind-blown, and tons of tiny little parts of flowers had gotten stuck in her hair. Despite this, she jumped to her feet, running about, dancing mere inches away from falling to her death, the image of sheer happiness.

She paused only to listen to me.

And to my surprise, she spoke to me, her words tripping over themselves and their confidence.

“It is…Beautiful I mean. Beyond beautiful."

She laughed, and fell back into a sitting position, from which she soon fell over into the petals, getting more stuck to her frame before sitting back up, too full of young energy to sit still. Only when she held my arm did she somber up again, the fae princess in her gone.

“If I study naming, I will not break. I’m not made of the same brittle stuff as everyone else. Neither are you."

It was that moment I realized that although we had just met, she considered us as friends.

Stepping closer to the girl, I re-took her arm. Cold petals tickled my bare feet and I felt more at home than I had in a long time. “I can show you how beautiful it can be.” I told her, a part of my mind cautioning me against promising things I may not be able to deliver on. But at that moment, I felt more empowered than even the naming could give me. The way this girl looked at me, the way her eyes brightened as she allowed me to take her arm… it was …breath taking.

For the first time in a long time, my smile wasn’t faked. It was true and honest. “Auri.” I said suddenly, stopping in our stroll to turn and face her. “Your name…it doesn’t fit you. It’s too…heavy.” I tried to articulate things that I couldn’t explain.

“So if it’s alright with you, I’ll give you a new name. Auri.” I reached forward, hand poised to stroke some of her hair that still hadn’t settled down. I froze. I’d known this girl for less than two hours total and yet here I was, about to make an incredibly intimate and forward move. My smile moved from joyful to embarrassed and I pulled my hand back, stepping away slightly to look away.

When I named her, she blinked, and even though I would never think it possible, smiled even wider. She took in that I was going to brush her hair, and despite being the the wild girl trapped within the University, did nothing to stop me. However, when I backed away, she laughed lightly and all at once found her words again.

“You’re right- my name was too much. It’s like an old book that’s too heavy and too old so not even Master Lorren will touch it."

Laughing at the thought of the master avoiding any sort of book, she went on as she stood up, plucking the petals out of her hair with casual, smooth gestures.

“I’ve gotten a name from a namer" she half-sung, half-teased. “Auri, Auri, but none the tamer." The tune she sang caused me to laugh-it was very obviously a half-hearted verse of Tinker Tanner. 

“I think Auri suits you.” I said, “Not sure what it means, but that’s what I hear when I look at you.” I tried to flash her what I hoped was a sly grin. “Even if it’s just me that calls you that.”

Slowly, I led us back down to solid ground, pausing only to retrieve my boots. “I’ll put in a word with Master Aldor. He’ll take you into his naming class. But it’s a bit… different… when you think of lessons. You can’t learn naming from a book. You can’t learn naming. It’s something you just…do.” I spoke with a sigh, knowing how stupid it sounded. When I’d first heard that, I’d thought it was a load of horse shit. But by now I knew better. Even though it didn’t sound it, it was true.

She climbed down as effortlessly as she’d gone up, listening and talking all the way. At least thrice she thanked me for standing up for her going into naming, but that was part of the polite banter between any two students so you’ll forgive me if I skip around that. The things she said about the study were much more interesting.

“If you learn everything from a book, you’re just remembering what somebody else already knows." she explained to me while reaching for a windowsill. “Naming is so beautiful because it’s something intimate. It’s between you and your subject, on the deepest level." The conviction of her words was infallible. 

When we reached the ground, she stretched, and excitedly confided in me:

“I want to learn the names of the ground, the grass, the trees, every flower- the wind." She smiled on the last one, as she’d known what she’d seen. “I want every single star in the sky as my friend, so I’ll never be lonely. I want to sing to the face on the moon. I want to know these things, so then I’ll understand them. Then I’ll love them."

Awkwardly, she realized she was on a bit of a tangent and shut her mouth again. Her shyness melted away within a few seconds though, and the air was filled with another refrain of laughter.

“You understand."

I smiled at her, nodding. I could feel our evening drawing to an end, and it was with some disappointment I led her back to her room. At her door, I paused, wondering what to say, what was the right thing? But then I realized that what I said at this moment didn’t really matter. Auri was my friend, she would be studying naming. We would be seeing a lot of each other.

“I’ll talk to Aldor tomorrow then have someone find you.” Chances are she’d be in the Archives. Where I wasn’t allowed to go. “Until then, my fair lady, I will bid you a good night.” I gave her a mock bow, and then before she could reply, I left. 

\--- --- --- 

There was a pause in the narrative as Elodin turned to face his young student. The look on his face caused the master to laugh heartily for a full minute. “Don’t look at me like that!” He said.

“Like what?” Kvothe somehow managed to keep his half glare as he stared at the master, the wind and rain sending his red hair flailing. 

“Like I’m some urchin sitting in a pile of horse-shit.” Another laugh from the Master, “Did you think that you were the first to meet her? Or to give her the name that shouts itself from her very being? She’s not as she once was, I’ll grant you, but Auri is still Auri.” 

His expression turned dark for a moment as he looked towards the clouds. “Though your Auri is not the Auri I knew. And I’m afraid that was my fault.”


End file.
